Shimekukuri
by clasp.at.front
Summary: one-shot, rated for minor theme.. Jin meets her again, in one of the most unlikely places. ' ...Answer me! Where is he! '


_"The Edo is ending ever so soon, and violence has no intention to come to a halt. We'll never meet again, unless all of us were alive."_

_They departed._

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Light footsteps pondered over the tiles, softly making his way through the toxicated air, inhaling the drunken scent. Of all places to meet, this at least was better than hell. A rigid heartbeat, his guard was held high as multiple men no younger than him glared daggers of hatred, just by appearence. A stranger, foreign to this small building with minimum knowledge of what really there was to expect.

Low tuned musique played in the background, only low and hazy to keep from tremendously ravaging ears of those who've lost mental sanity for the while, temporarily drunk for the evening. A never-tired beat of skin, leaned bones brushing with this layer of body part called finger along with a light clash between bronze thin and plated metal and stick. Inorganic percussion of noise, pitched depending on which object was played sounded, a little slow to faster a few presses and slower again, piano keyboarding.

Mellow strings, slipped across several lines at a time as chords echoed from a wooden hole for a whole woosh, along with a soft beat of a wrapped cloth stick against an oval covered by tight thin fabric. A lighter set of keys were played, another set of fingers strolling down the lined blanked colour rectangles. A breath captured and smally blown through the slim hole, more sound cooing out of the flute.

The place wasn't that shabby, only supplied for an effected vision with dimmed lights and lit candles five meters of distance from each other. Other than that, the room was quite dark with almost no silence 'cluding the musique, low mumbles of conversing, and glasses dropped back to the counter. This indoor environment rather gave a...feverish instinct to it. The stained wallpaper of shaded crimson to brown, by the texture of it blood drying up from a recent minute in the hour that he -luckily- has missed.

Across him, he saw a female. Maybe she was the only innocence of this whole club, he's decided, before taking choice of approaching.

The woman gave a silent mourn of despair before taking another sip, lips matched against the edge of the clear glass but liquid. The fluid moistoned her dry mouth as it entered, a surprising twist to her taste buds before slitting down her throat. Hydrated. Still and stiff in her position, her head slightly shifted to the bartender, a small raise to her glass signaling a request for another portion of the mixture. In response, the bartender only nodded before drifting off to the darkness.

Her eyes skipped to the ceiling, her head bobbed backwards to take view of this plain sight. It was so clean, that she could have sworn to seen her own pair of eyes, except enhanced to suspicious, shimmering black. No. It wasn't hers.

"Mhmm," she groaned with her own feminime touch, sparing a glance at the arriving man. Unlike she, he was tall and broad, dark hair and a no brighter coat cloaking his figure. Eyes of a mystery looming for attention, his pale cream and peach face beholding such. As a shadow strode by them, a shining glimmer to his eyes passed to her impaired vision. A small gasp to her mouth escaped, in realization of what -attheleast- he was. "Well..." A pause. "I'll be..."

"Sit," she ordered, slapping her unbalanced hand against the stool next to her. By looking at him, she could have told that he wasn't ordinary, nor obedient. "Now," she added, trying to not look up at him. To her annoyance, he only kept steady, continually standing without any movement. She smiled, before pulling the vacinated stool closer to her. "Sit. Now.," she repeated, trying to restain irritance from overcoming.

"Or else?" he queried, raising a brow, hinting interest to what her threat had to be.

Simply rolling her eyes, she mumbled, "I'll make you..." before laying a hand to the counter.

Fingers prowled open, two objects in darting speed slid through the polished counter. The first and swiftest perfectly puzzled to her hand as a base, as the other one missed and made half-a-splish to the floor. Curious, she set aside her glass before gripping the edge of her stool. Leaning to her right to observed the cracked cup, she chuckled. "You poor runt!" she exclaimed, laughter interrupting the musique. All eyes and attention preyed before her.

To their shock, he stepped ahead her, blocking the others from their view of her. "There's nothing to see," he intoned, before everyone else resumed to their nightly drink. He crooked his back, bending down to obtain the shattered glass splattered on the tiles. "Shit."

"Somethin' wrong?" she asked instantly, leaning suggestively to him.

"No," he replied bluntly, before standing full form to place the bigger and more managable pieces on the counter.

"Mou... are you sure nothing's...wrong?" she questioned once more, pouty lips displayed in a plead.

"Listen," he began, sincere as ever for her ears to listen attentively, "You've changed. You of all people."

"You barely even know me. Who are you, anyways?"

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"I-I...I can't believe it! Jin! You're alive!"

-no respond-

"But..."

-repeat-

"Where's...Mugen?"

-silence-

"...Answer me! Where is he?!"

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"Hell."

**_-Finale-_**

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This fanfiction was started on the 23rd of January 2008, and completed on the 24th. I deny any claim of the characters, as well as a fandom. I haven't finished the series - Hellyahimstillonepisodeeight - and am not suggesting the personalities precisly nor pairing. Slight alternative-universe. That is all. 


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